


Woke Up Like This

by GotTheSilver



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Drinking, Hangover, M/M, Memory Loss, Strangers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-07
Updated: 2015-03-07
Packaged: 2018-03-16 16:50:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3495731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GotTheSilver/pseuds/GotTheSilver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles takes the hand Derek offers and shakes it, looking around the bedroom.  “Not that I remember seeing any of the rest of it, but this looks like a nice place.”</p>
<p>“Wait,” Derek says, dropping Stiles’ hand.  “You think this is <i>my</i> place?”</p>
<p>“Yeah.”</p>
<p>“I thought it was your place.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Woke Up Like This

**Author's Note:**

> I saw a post about aus on tumblr, and there was one about people waking up together in a house that doesn't belong to either of them. et voila.
> 
> also part of trope bingo, trope: in vino veritas.
> 
> apologies for the title. I had to.

Stiles jerks awake with the creeping realisation he isn’t where he’s meant to be. The pounding in his head is something of a hint as to how he’s got himself into this situation, but that’s not something he’s concerned about right now. “Soft pillow,” he mumbles, rubbing his cheek against the fabric. “So soft.”

“Do you do this every morning?”

Stiles’ eyes shoot open and, reluctantly, he lifts his head from the oh so soft pillow. “Uh.” He turns his head and is greeted by a shirtless dude. A very attractive shirtless dude, and oh god, what the hell did he do last night? “Hi?”

“So, _do_ you do this every morning?” the guy asks, rubbing his forehead.

“Do what?”

“Rub your face against your pillows?”

“I, uh, they’re not my pillows,” Stiles says, sitting up. “And I don’t remember anything about last night. Did we—”

“I don’t think so.” The guy offers him a sheepish smile, which Stiles kind of melts in the face of because it’s freaking adorable. “I think I drank too much last night.”

“Join the club. I’m Stiles.”

“Derek.”

Stiles takes the hand Derek offers and shakes it, looking around the bedroom. “Not that I remember seeing any of the rest of it, but this looks like a nice place.”

“Wait,” Derek says, dropping Stiles’ hand. “You think this is _my_ place?”

“Yeah.”

“I thought it was your place.”

“Dude, no way can I afford somewhere as nice as this.” They fall into silence, and Stiles takes the moment to lift the blankets up, checking that they both still have their boxers on. “Just checking,” he says when he catches Derek staring at him.

“If this isn’t where either of us live, then who _does_ live here?”

“And what’re they gonna do to us when they find out we broke in?”

“You don’t know we broke in,” Derek says, his eyebrows raised. “We could’ve—”

“Stumbled across a kind person who saw how drunk we were and took us in? How good do you think our luck is?”

“Probably not that good,” Derek sighs. “Okay, I think I see my pants over there.”

Stiles follows where Derek’s hand is gesturing and narrows his eyes at the slightly familiar sight of Derek’s pants. “Oh god, you’re hot butt guy.”

“Excuse me?”

“I— _fuck_. There was a bar? And I was talking about you to my friends, I think?”

“Hot butt guy,” Derek says slowly, almost to himself, and Stiles can feel heat flushing up his body.

“Can we forget I said that? Oh, I see my clothes.” Climbing out of the bed, Stiles quickly tugs on his clothes, searching around for his sneakers that he’s sure he was wearing last night.

“Cute Star Wars guy,” Derek says suddenly.

Stiles turns around and sees him sitting on the edge of the bed, his boots in his hand. “What?”

“That’s what I called you when I talked to my friends last night,” Derek says quietly, lacing up his boots. “Because of your shirt.”

It’s totally inappropriate for Stiles to be as happy as he is right now, but there’s the cutest flush on Derek’s neck and Stiles—he really wants to tackle Derek to the bed and not get up for hours. “I—” Stiles cuts himself off when he hears a noise in the house. “Did you hear that?”

“Yeah,” Derek says, frozen in place. “What are we—”

“I don’t know!”

“Look out the window.”

“What?!”

“Is there something we can climb down?”

Stiles glances out and shrugs. “There’s one of those things that plants grow up? We could probably make it. Or we could hide up here until they leave.”

“Seriously?”

“I’m not a fan of breaking my neck, Derek.”

“I won’t let that happen,” Derek says, meeting Stiles’ eyes as he stands up. “I swear.”

“Not that I don’t trust you, but we’re both hungover. In fact, I think I might still be drunk.”

Derek laughs, looking out of the window. “It doesn’t look secured to the house,” he says, eventually. “There’s some rot.”

“So we’re stuck here,” Stiles says, sitting on the bed.

“Unless you want to go downstairs and introduce yourself to whoever is downstairs.”

Stiles rolls his eyes and shuffles back on the bed until his back is resting against the wall. “Have you got your phone?”

“Hold on.” Derek crouches down, grabbing a leather jacket from the floor and rummaging around in the pocket. “Yeah,” he says, pulling it out. “Battery’s dead, though. You?”

“Same,” Stiles says, holding it up before dropping it on the bed. “Think there’s a charger in here?”

“Because our luck has gone that way so far,” Derek says, climbing on the bed. “What are we going to do?”

“If we go downstairs and there’s someone there, they’ll call the cops.”

“Not good.”

“But do we know that there’s someone down there?”

Derek frowns at him and shrugs. “There was a noise.”

“Have you heard anything since then?”

“No, but—”

Raising an eyebrow at Derek, Stiles leans in and whispers, “I’ll risk it if you will.” He goes to move away, but Derek turns to stare at him. Their faces are so close together, all Stiles would have to do is say something and they’d be kissing. “I—”

“Okay,” Derek interrupts, his lips brushing over Stiles’ open mouth. “Let’s risk it.”

Capturing Derek’s mouth with his own, Stiles kisses Derek quickly, firmly, before either of them can change their minds. “For luck,” he says when he pulls away. “Let’s do this.”

*

They creep out into the hallway, pausing every few steps to look around. Stiles shrugs when Derek gestures to the stairs. “You go first,” Stiles whispers.

“Why?”

“Because then I can stare at your butt.”

Derek rolls his eyes and starts down the stairs, wincing when there’s a creaking noise. No one comes to investigate, so Stiles is fairly sure no one is actually home. When they make it downstairs, Stiles wraps a hand around Derek’s arm and looks around, his eyes catching a movement by the side of the couch. “Derek, I think I found the noise maker.”

“A fucking _cat_?” Derek lets out a breath and shakes his head. “Let’s get out of here.”

Stiles crosses his fingers as Derek opens the door, thanking any deity he can imagine that there’s no visible alarm anywhere. There’s no shrill noises, and there don’t seem to be any nosy neighbours wondering what two dishevelled men are doing coming out of the house, but Stiles breathes a little easier when they reach the sidewalk.

“Uh, where are we going to go?” Stiles asks, still holding on to Derek’s arm. “I have no idea where we are.”

Derek slides his arm out of Stiles’ grip and takes his hand instead. “Think we’re still in Beacon County?”

“I hope so,” Stiles says, glancing down at where their Derek’s fingers are entwined with his. “There has to be a diner around here somewhere, right? Hangover pancakes? Waffles? Coffee?”

“That sounds like the best idea anyone has had in a long time.”

“One problem.”

“Yeah?”

“What direction do we think a diner is?”

*

Eventually, they stumble across a diner. Derek shares his blueberry pancakes with Stiles, as well as some sticky sweet kisses. Stiles drinks his bodyweight in coffee and asks the waitress for a pen so he can scribble his number down for Derek on a napkin.

“Maybe next time we could actually remember a night out,” he says, watching as Derek slides the napkin into his pocket carefully.

“I think if I’m with you next time, I won’t need to drink so much.”

Stiles beams, kissing Derek softly. “We’re gonna be so great.”

“If we make it home.”

“Think Sheila will let us use the phone to call a cab?”

“I think if you ask, she’ll give us a ride home,” Derek says, one hand wrapped around his coffee mug.

“Jealous?”

“I don’t see you kissing her.”

“True,” Stiles says. “Though I’d reconsider if she gave me more pie.”

“I can make pie.”

“A man of many talents.”

Derek grins, leaning in to kiss Stiles. “So many talents.”

“That’s—” Stiles is cut off by someone slamming a half full mug of coffee on the table. “Uh, oh _shit_ ,” he says as he looks up at the visitor. “Hi dad.”

“Scott called me,” his dad says by way of explanation. “Said you vanished with a ‘shady looking guy’ last night. That’s a direct quote. Seemed to think you might get in trouble.”

“I didn’t!”

“Is this the shady looking guy?”

“He prefers Derek,” Stiles says, making a face. “Derek, my dad, dad, Derek.”

“Pleased to meet you, sir,” Derek says quietly.

“Uh huh,” Stiles’ dad says. “I’m going to be heading back to town, I assume you both need a ride?”

“That depends,” Stiles says. “Are you going to be nice?”

“Stiles, you’re a grown man, I don’t give a damn who you spend your nights with. I give a damn when I’m woken up by your best friend because he thinks you went home with a serial killer.”

“I’ll talk to Scott.”

“Good. Go get in the car, unless you want to pay for a cab?”

Stiles shakes his head, pokes Derek in the side until they’re both out of the booth. “Sorry,” Stiles says to Derek. “I had no idea that would—”

“Stiles, out of everything that’s happened today, I don’t think meeting your dad was the worst.”

“And the best thing?”

Derek knocks his shoulder against Stiles’ and laughs. “Fishing for a compliment?”

“Do I need to?”

“Nope.”

Pushing Derek against the side of the car, Stiles kisses him, fully intent on never going a day without kissing Derek again. He’s pretty sure he’s addicted to it, and he doesn't foresee that being a problem.

“Stiles! You’re too damn old to be making out with boys against my car!”

Well. Maybe the kissing can wait until they make it to his apartment.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://motleywolf.tumblr.com%22).


End file.
